And I’m back. It has been an interesting, yet somehow, unimpressive month since I last penned anything to post on OS. I don’t know what is more depressing – the fact it’s been a month since my last entry and I wanted to blog every second day; or that I don’t really have anything remotely earth-shattering to tell you all. Man, I do live a relatively boring life.

I guess the big news is that the Dubai Marathon has come and gone and I have managed to survive it. Survived might be the best word as well. As mentioned before, my training in the weeks leading up to the marathon was inadequate, and I knew I was in for a morning of hurt and suffering that I could only have myself to blame for. I actually felt really good the morning of the race. I was hydrated, had eaten right during the weeks leading up to the race, and during my warm-up stretches any old aches and pains I had were gone. Yes, this turned out to be a false sense of optimism. Although, and I say this proudly, for the first 24 kilometres, over half of the race, I felt strong and was on pace for a 4:30 time; which I would have been ecstatic with. But then it all went downhill in a hurry.

At around the 24 kilometre mark I felt my knee pop slightly. Undaunted, I went on. I finally succumbed to the incessant tweaks of pain around 6 k later and had to get the medical team to wrap my knee for me. While I could still continue, I knew that my body wouldn’t allow me to keep up the pace I was on. I had to slow down even more. When I strolled past the 34 k mark, my old recurring groin injury crept up on me. A quick stop at yet another medical site to have ice packs wrapped around my groin threatened to cut my race short – but I pleaded with the medics and told them that the race stays open for 6 hours, if I finished the race in under 6 hours I would get my medal – I had 2 and a half hours to walk the final 8 k, which I could do in my condition. They relented and let me walk on; shadowing me for around a kilometre to make sure I didn’t break into a jog. When I neared the final bend I thought I could manage a jog for the final 400 metres. Kirsty has the photo of me hobbling down the home stretch, knee wrapped, ice pack fastened around my groin, me leaving someone in my trail as I finished in a pedestrian 5:18. Kirsty ran the 10 kilometre race and finished in a respectable 1 hour 20 minutes, and toyed with the idea of running a full marathon next year (for about 3 seconds) until she heard all of us complaining about how much we hurt or were going to hurt.

We flew to England the next day, although we took advantage of a full day in Dubai before our flight left to travel up the world’s tallest building, the Burj Khalifa. We stopped on the 124^th floor, roughly half way up, to observe the landscape around us. I’ve now been up three of the world’s tallest buildings (the CN Tower in Toronto and the Hancock Building in Chicago being the others) and I must say, this one was absolutely out of this world. Seriously unbelievable views and when you’re on the observation deck and can feel the wind and crispness in the air, you do long for the solid ground under your feet.

The purpose for our trip to England was to see Kirsty’s family. She hasn’t seen them in a year and a half so it was time. It was a nice relaxing trip, with plenty of laughs, some great food, and we even managed to see some of my relatives as well. But I’m back in Saudi now, living as a bachelor for the week as Kirsty managed to get an extra week off this time around. Not to fear, I’ve been cooking for myself and have already put my holiday luggage away. Yeah, I know. I’m a catch.

And that’s it. Seriously. Told you I live a boring life.

Cheers.